


John Oliver, the Walking Parrot Magnet

by crackerscheese



Category: Fake News FPF
Genre: Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 09:17:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crackerscheese/pseuds/crackerscheese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Oliver has a very unusual day, starting with a trip to the bathroom and ending with a pile of  bird feathers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	John Oliver, the Walking Parrot Magnet

John Oliver walked down the _Daily Show_ studio hallway after excusing himself to go to the bathroom during the writer’s meeting on Monday. He passed an empty office on the way, and heard a weird noise.

_“Caa-Caw!”_

_“Caa-Caw!”_

John thought the noise was odd, so he decided to check it out. He opened the office door, and the sight he saw surprised him so much he shrieked loudly before closing the door with a slam. He leaned on the door for support as he relieved the trauma of what he’d seen, which he supposed must be a prop for tonight’s show, in his head.

Soon he calmed down enough from blind panic to realize that what he saw was too weird to be a live prop for the show. They must have got inside the office during the weekend, John figured, and they will probably be a nuisance to get out. “I need to tell Jon about this before it gets out of hand,” John muttered before running back to the writer’s meeting.

***888***888***

The writing staff was busy tossing ideas for tonight’s show when John burst back into the room. “John, welcome back! That was a quick trip to the restroom, wasn’t it?” Jon greeted.

“Jon!” John yelled, ignoring the welcome completely. “Did you know that you have parrots in your studio?”

“What?” Jon asked, not believing a word John said. “Parrots in my...is this a joke?”

“No!” John exclaimed. “Come on, I’ll show you!” He grabbed Jon from his seat and dragged him to the door.

As John took him out the room Jon instructed, “Guys, toss some ideas around and tell me them later, alright?” And with that, he was into the hallway.

***888***888***

John and Jon arrived by the office door. “Here it is. Open the door,” John commanded.

Jon shook his head and giggled slightly, still not believing what John was saying. “This is definitely a joke.”

“No it’s not,” John protested. “Look!” John opened the door for him, and Jon was greeted with the sight of two dozen brightly colored parrots staring at him from various places in the room.

Jon closed the door in shock. “That couldn’t be real.”

“See, I told you it wasn’t a joke!” John said, grinning slightly in self-satisfaction.

Jon opened the door again and stepped inside with John anxiously following him. Jon cautiously felt a nearby parrot’s feathers, as if he wasn’t sure they were real. “Where the hell did these birds come from?” he asked.

A parrot landed on John’s left shoulder, and John noticed a tag that was attached to its leg. “I think this answers your question,” he said after he read the tag. “This tag says that parrot is _Property of Stephen Colbert_.”

Jon rolled his eyes. This is just a typical thing for Stephen to do. “Well, it looks like I’ll have to call him to tell him to pick these birds up. John, can you stay here and keep an eye on the birds for me?”

“But Jon--,” John started to protest but Jon was already gone. John closed the door and sat on the floor dejectedly. “Can’t believe I’m stuck here bird-sitting,” he muttered.

A parrot landed on his right shoulder, cawing at the parrot on his left. Another parrot landed on his head, and John grew concerned as more parrots gathered around him. “Little birdies, keep away!” he yelled, trying to shoo away several birds that tried to land on him.

He wasn’t very successful though, and soon all of the parrots were perched on some part of his body: his shoes, his knees, his arms, his head and his shoulders. He tried to shake them off by waving his arms, but birds flew back as soon as he stopped. John put his head in his hands, sighing as the parrots adjusted to his new position.

“Who knew that I, John Oliver, was a walking parrot magnet?” John asked glumly.

***888***888***

As soon as Jon walked into his office he grabbed his phone and dialed Stephen’s number.

“Hello Jon!” Stephen greeted once he answered. “What’s up?”

“Why are there parrots in my studio?” Jon asked, getting straight to the point.

“It was just for the weekend, Jon. I am going to get them tomorrow, actually.”

“Stephen, I want you to pick them up now,” Jon demanded.

“Sorry, I can’t!” Stephen said. “It’s not a good idea to bring them down to the _Report_ studio, since we have eagles flying about and all,” he explained causally.

“Wait,” Jon said, shocked, “You have eagles flying within your studio?”

Stephen was silent for a while. “Umm...yes?”

“You know what, I don’t care that you have eagles around, I just want these parrots out,” Jon said.

“But the eagles will eat them!” Stephen protested.

“Then keep the parrots elsewhere! I don’t want them here, that’s all.”

“Okay, I’ll pick up the parrots within the hour,” Stephen conceded before hanging up. Jon hung up too, putting his phone away before running out the door. It was time to relieve John of his duties as bird-sitter.

***888***888***

John was starting to doze off when Jon came back into the room. “Hey John, how’s it going--” Jon began before giggling at the sight of parrots pecking at John’s head.

“It’s not funny!” John protested, standing up and groaning when the parrots adjusted themselves instead of flying away.

“It’s not that bad,” said Jon as he patted John’s shoulder, expecting some of parrots to fly away in response. When they instead moved to land on John’s head, Jon frowned. “That’s odd,” he commented.

“I know,” John said wearily. Suddenly the door opened.

“The writers were wondering where you’ve been--” Sam start to say before fully taking in the sight of John covered head to toe with parrots. “What the hell is going on here?”

“Stephen’s fault,” was all Jon said, as if that explained everything.

“Oh,” Sam said, understanding. “Well, I’ll leave you guys to it then.” And with that, she left the room.

John kept trying to shake off the parrots and Jon kept giggling at his attempts until Stephen came into the office five minutes later.

“Wow, the birds really like you,” Stephen commented, noticing John.

“Just shut up and get the bloody birds off me, will you?” John grumbled.

“Alright,” Stephen chuckled, and then he extended his arms before snapping his fingers. The birds automatically flew to him, leaving John birdless as they arranged themselves perfectly along Stephen’s arms.

On Stephen the birds were perfectly behaved, not pecking at him or shedding feathers on his person. John glared at him in envy as he flicked leftover feathers off his shoulders and rubbed the places the birds had pecked on his body.

Stephen waved his hand slightly, as much as he could without bothering the parrots too much and said, “Now that’s done, I must bid you gentlemen farewell!” And with that he left the office, Jon and John watching him as he went.

There was a brief moment of silence before Jon said, “Well, back to the writers’ meeting,” and started to walk causally to the door. John followed him, confusion etched onto his features.

“What? We’ve just dealt with a bird infestation problem, and you going to get back to work like it never even happened?”

“Yep,” Jon replied as they both came out of the office and into the hallway. “That because it is normal. With Stephen around this type of thing happens once or twice a week.”

John, who can’t stand the idea of sitting around with parrots pecking on his glasses one more time without going insane, asked, “How do you deal with the insanity?”

“Ignore it, mostly,” Jon said truthfully. “If you don’t pay attention to it it’ll eventually disappear. Sometimes though, it might rot in the basement and require wearing hazmat suits to remove but that happens about...three times a year, I think.”

Jon stopped talking to giggle at the expression on John’s face, which was currently slightly terrified. “You’ll get used to it.” Jon moved to ruffle John’s hair, but when he saw something in John’s hair he decided against it. “Ewww.”

“What’s wrong?” John asked, wondering what could possibly cause that much of a strong reaction from Jon.

Jon wrinkled his nose. “You have bird poop in your hair.”

John frantically searched his hair, hoping Jon’s claim was not true. Unfortunately, it was. “Aw hell no!” John exclaimed. “This will take hours to wash off!” John then scampered off to the bathroom, where he was actually headed to in the first place before this all started.

Jon grinned at John’s retreating figure. He would do get fine here, he knew it. Now, he had more important things to do. Like figure out how Stephen got a couple of eagles flying inside his studio. He was pretty sure that wasn’t legal.

THE END


End file.
